


and i keep you inside my heart

by liamozes



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, idk what time period this is, not set in the 80s sorry, wendy's there already bc i want her to be there, when does the chasing part begin?, when i say it does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-09-28 12:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamozes/pseuds/liamozes
Summary: There's something about Special Agent Tench that makes Holden want to bury his fingers in deep and never let go.Or, how an omega chases an alpha.





	1. do-gooder

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**: I have a foggy memory of season 1 episodes so I'll try to avoid going into detail with those cases in case I make mistakes.  
This is set in an unknown time period and not in the 70s or 80s because I felt like this story would work much better in a more modern setting. Not sure how modern I want to make it though. 'Traditional' attitudes towards omegas still exist.  
Reimagining crimes that appeared in the show.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holden gets a new job.

"Good morning. How are you?"

The security guard at Quantico gave him a brief once-over, as though judging him for speaking to him during a silent procedure. He could feel the impatient gazes of other FBI agents on him.

He smiles awkwardly at the beta and picks up his badge and briefcase from the tray hastily.

Holden has always, unfortunately, stuck out. 

In kindergarten, he refused to play the part of a simpering omega for the alpha knight to claim after defeating a horrible monster. The children in his class originally put it down to the weird betas he had as mothers, who instilled their son with more progressive values. They stopped playing with him after a while.

When both his parents died, he was placed in the care of an alpha and beta couple. They ran a large group home in Massachusetts and were far too preoccupied with making ends meet to make sure a young omega went to school dressed in something other than hand-me-downs and was fed something other than instant meals. He was certain that his foster mom loved him, in her own distant way. Holden tells himself that it could have been worse. 

He walks down the austere hallway quickly after exiting the elevator. Head up, back straight, and hand clenching the handle of his briefcase so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

Holden had worked for this.

Ever since his graduation, he had wanted to join the Behavioural Sciences Unit. It was a relatively small department of the FBI that was set up three years ago. They specialised in the analysis of Holden's main interest- serial killers. 

He had pushed aside suggestions that a job at the BSU was "not fit for a young omega" and knocked his interview out of the park. At least he thought he did- otherwise, how would he have made it here?

"Good morning," he says politely to a standing alpha at the door to the offices. 

The slender blonde flicks her eyes at him lazily. Holden thinks the image she presented in a sleek wrap dress and heels would have been completed if she had a cigarette in one hand and a martini in another. 

"Agent Ford?"

"Yes, that's me." Suddenly, Holden recognises her. "And you're Doctor Wendy Carr! The consultant who helped find the Green Killer. I read your paper, _The Criminal Profiling of Serial-Killing Alphas_, and found it so insightful. The link between masculinity and homicidal tendencies was really-"

He comes to a stop when he realises that he was rambling.

"Hmm," the woman smirks at him. She looks amused. "You're a strange one, aren't you."

Holden looks away, slightly embarrassed. 

"No need to be ashamed of it, Agent Ford. Only the strange ones succeed in this place."

"Maybe."

She holds out her hand and he shakes it. "Doctor Carr. Don't call me Wendy. Or M'am."

The inside of the office is spartan, like most of the FBI rooms he has been in. Boxes of files were scattered on the ground and there was a large map hanging on a board in the centre of the room. The room smelled like cigarette smoke. There couldn't have been more than ten people working at the desks. 

"My office is over there. Bill Tench's- he's the Head of the BSU, but you probably knew that already- is in the corner, but he's on a case in California at the moment. He'll be back by the afternoon."

She leads him to where Holden presumes is his desk. 

"This is Agent Ford, he'll be joining us for a six-month trial."

The beta, a moderately handsome man with greying hair, gives him a weak smile, which was friendlier than anything else Holden had gotten so far. 

"I'm Holden."

"Agent Gregg Smith."

"Nice to meet you."

"Welcome to the BSU."

"Alright, Agent," Holden puts his briefcase on his desk and follows Doctor Carr to her office with the large glass walls, feeling a little like a lost puppy. He takes a few breaths to stabilise himself.

"I read your file."

He sits down into a leather chair. The glass walls made him feel vulnerable, although he was sure no one in the office was watching them.

"Excellent credentials. Graduated third in your academy class. One year with the hostage negotiation division. Bill and I handpick our agents, and we would have rejected someone with your mental _issues_, but the AD seems to have taken a special interest in you."

"I may be an omega, but that shouldn't have to set me apart from the rest."

"Do you know how many omegas work in law enforcement in America?"

"Around eighty-thousand."

"Do you know the proportion of omegas there are in the employment of the FBI?"

"Less than seven percent."

"When they make up around fifteen percent of the population," she leans forward, elbows on her desk. "Hope you aren't one of those New Age omegas who take up difficult jobs because they have something to prove. All bark and no bite."

"I won't make any trouble."

"You don't seem like the trouble-making sort," she meets his eyes. "But something did happen in Pennsylvania. Appearances can be deceiving."

Holden tries to look as guileless as possible in front of the alpha.

"Those eyes won't work on me, Agent," again with that amused look. "Try Bill."

"It's an honour to work here, Doctor."

The woman gives him a look. It's not one Holden is used to. It is not the doubtful glances from his professors ("_are you absolutely sure you want to continue next semester, Mr. Ford?_"), nor is it the mocking stares of his academy classmates ("_go and play house, omega_"). She just seems _curious_ to him.

"I'll introduce you to everyone once Bill is back," she continues. "Anyone harasses you or treats you inappropriately in this place, you come straight to me and I'll bring it to HR."

He stands, smoothing out the creases on his suit jacket.

"Dismissed."

* * *

He stubs out a cigarette with the heel of his shoe.

The flight back from California had been a fucking nightmare. There were two pregnant omegas onboard who were sick the entire time, as though they had planned this before the plane took off. Their mates made such a huge fuss around them you would have thought the world was ending. Bill thinks he could still smell the vile scent of sick in his car. 

_Fucking omegas_.

That was precisely why he never bothered to marry. 

He could have, once, to a lovely beta woman, but the violence of an FBI career proved to be too much for her. They would have had children and a reasonably-priced suburban house. He didn't regret letting go of Nancy. She wouldn't've been happy with him. 

A few agents nod at Bill when he passes, giving off a moody air. Most scurry out of his way. 

He opens the door to the office and stops, inhaling deeply. 

Bill was born with an acute sense of smell that was better than the other alphas he knew. And that sweet smell was unmistakable.

_A fucking omega_.

This was someone new to the BSU. Bill knows it had to be Holden Ford- a strange name if you asked him. He had no idea that the newbie was an omega. The important detail had likely passed his mind when she told him. 

The Bureau had been all about diversity in its recruits recently. Bill didn't mind having more omegas in the office, just to balance things out a little, but he thought they would be working as a secretary or an instructor. This man had been cleared to go out in the field.

He makes his way to his corner office and catches a glimpse of the unfamiliar omega chatting with Vera, the beta assistant he shared with Wendy. 

Neatly-parted brown hair. Large eyes. Sharp features. 

Agent Ford looks up and directly into Bill's eyes without the classic omegean shyness. 

The other man looks away and shifts his body to face Vera again. 

Bill sighs. 

"Alright," he hears Wendy say after he settles down, files just opened and lukewarm coffee on the table, courtesy of Vera. That woman had the worst timing. "It's time to introduce the newest member of the BSU."

He enters the bullpen, moving to stand next to Wendy and the sweet-smelling omega.

"Nice of you to join us, Bill."

Agent Ford looks gentle up close. There is a softness in his face but his features are hard and angular. His black suit is well-cut and his haircut frankly reminds Bill of a boy scout. The whole outfit, paired with a skinny tie and loafers, screams G-man at him. 

The man is slightly shorter than him and has to look up to meet his eyes. His are the odd, unplaceable colour between blue and green.

"This is Special Agent Holden Ford from our New York office. He will be working as an analyst. Please make him feel welcome."

Bill feels a twinge of _something_ for this young man, who ducks his head and offers a bright smile to his new colleagues. This was someone who thought he was doing good for society, an intrepid omega who had the balls to become a Fed.

_Wait a few months, kid. You won't be smiling then._

"Hi. It's great to be here."

He spoke in dulcet tones. So far, Bill's impression of Holden Ford was one of an inexperienced omega with unconscious charm. He never thought of himself as one of _those_ alphas, who were instantly enamoured with a pretty omega, but he could understand why a few of the department's alphas and betas were eyeing the new agent with interest. 

"Alright let's get back to work," he claps his hands together. "Agent Ford."

The man shakes his hand firmly with wide eyes. "Agent Tench. Your essay on recognising killers and forensic techniques was inspiring. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Wendy appears to hide a smirk. 

"Likewise."

"He's working the new Iowa rape and murder case," Wendy adds. 

"Really?" Bill tries to keep the edge of disbelief out of his voice. "One hell of a first day for you, Agent."

"I haven't found many leads yet, but I believe that the suspect may be white and in his mid-thirties. Most likely a beta with a history of family abuse."

"Based on?"

"Working on it, sir."

Bill shares a look with Wendy. _Can you believe this kid?_

The woman shrugs imperceptibly.

"I'll talk to you if I uncover anything." Holden offers him another small smile and steps away in the direction of the records room, taking his cinnamony smell with him. Bill didn't even remember to tell the omega to bother someone else with his findings. 

Wendy has a calculating glint in her eye. "A boy with potential, don't you think? Would you consider going with him to Iowa for the case?"

Bill huffs. 

"In my office, Doctor Carr."

* * *

Holden hopes he hadn't come across as weird to his boss. 

"Don't mind Agent Tench," one of six agents who worked in the department, a plain-looking beta, says when he hands a box full of research files to Holden. "He's gruff with everyone."

"Especially with how Shepard's been breathing down his neck," another one- Agent Jay- chimes in. His deskmate, Gregg, looks up at that. "Thinks the Behavioural Sciences department should be focusing on Road School and not solving crimes."

"But what we're doing can change the way we uncover criminals in the world. Doesn't he recognise the need for a fresh perspective?"

"It's Shepard we're talking about."

"Actual relic."

"Don't say that," Gregg says. 

"Alright," Agent Jay raises his hands above his head in surrender. "I gotta check out these presentation slides. Want me to get you some coffee, Holden?"

"Sure," he replies, going back to the Iowa case. "Thanks."

The plain-looking agent snorts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just trying to keep it light and short. i just love their dynamic in the show.  
total police officer numbers in the US is 750000 (according to google)  
holden smells like cinnamon. jonathan groff is a cinnamon roll. i've connected the dots.  
wendy knows what's up  
wrote this in two hours give it a kudos or comment. not sure if i want to continue lol but thanks for reading.


	2. you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road with the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from _Cruise_, a song by Florida Georgia Line that I am obsessed with.
> 
> **Disclaimer**: sometimes the dialogue is different from the show so don't nitpick that
> 
> Thanks for all your support! :))

"I'm not going on the road with him," Agent Tench points an accusatory finger at Holden, who is determined not to shrink from the alpha's thinly-veiled frustration. 

"You've always wanted an assistant, Bill," Shepard says stiffly. "And Agent Ford could use some experience with a partner."

"Alpha-Omega partnerships don't do well in the field. It's unheard of."

"That's bull," Shepard looks exasperated. Holden resists the urge to roll his eyes. "You could set a precedent for all I care. I got you your damn assistant, not a partner, who just _happens_ to be an omega."

"Fine."

The alpha storms out.

Shepard, an alpha, exhales. "You would've thought a chance to share his work with the fairer sex would calm him down."

From what Holden has learned in the short period of time he has been in the BSU shadowing Agent Jay and Doctor Carr, Agent Tench's moodiness was legendary. An instructor whispered to him that it was because he had no mate to gentle him.

"I'm not sure anything could calm Agent Tench down when he's like that."

"Has he got you working on the Iowa case, Agent Ford?"

"Yes. I went down three days ago to talk with witnesses."

"Murders like that are a terrible business for an omega to get involved. Would you rather hand over the assignment to another agent?"

"I'd rather not, sir."

"Hmph," Shepard fixes his waistcoat. "I suppose one case wouldn't hurt."

* * *

Bill has been pleasantly surprised by Agent Ford's performance so far. 

The omega clearly had a passion for everything he put his mind to. It was almost unsettling how he could talk so enthusiastically about criminal psychology with little crime-solving knowledge under his belt. He was intelligent and well-spoken, a by-product of his college education. There had been a few towns where the police officers hadn't precisely _respected_ his opinions, but that didn't seem to keep him down. 

"I've never been to California," Ford had told him when they landed at LAX, a smile growing on his face. "I was based primarily around the East Coast."

Bill, who had skimmed the omega's file on his first day and kept it locked in a drawer at his desk, knows that he had spent time undercover in dangerous operations in the New York area. Maybe his first impression of unconscious charm had been wrong- the man could have some omegean wiles up his sleeve.

"Do you think we'll have time to see the Golden Gate Bridge?"

"That's in San Fransisco and we're in LA. We have a job so no, we won't."

The other man turns his head away, flushing. "Oh."

Bill doesn't want Ford to look so dejected for the entire trip that he fishes out his wallet at the closest gas station. He's taking advantage of an omega's sweet tooth but tells himself the opposite by throwing in a pack of cigarettes to go with the ice cream bar. _Omegas needed more sugar, right?_

"Here you go."

He tosses the ice cream bar at Ford, who catches it and grins, flashing his white teeth. 

"Thanks."

* * *

Holden doesn't think it is a bad idea. 

"It's an insane idea," Bill says on the drive to Sacramento, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "We're here to teach."

He bites his lip. "The only way to help with the Iowa case is to understand how killers think. I know you've gone over the details too. That was no lust murder or revenge murder. I'm shocked that no one thought of it sooner."

Holden thinks of the ill-fated trip to Iowa. The omega mother and her son being treated in the vilest manner. The local detective unable to wrap his head around such a crime. His own inability to connect the dots. He had never felt so helpless, not even when he had his first heat locked in his foster family's special room.

"You were given an unsolvable case, okay? There was no scent. No list of suspects." Bill's voice gets softer, as if he wanted to get Holden to relax. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

"Manson is thirty miles away in Vacaville."

"Charlie Manson? He'll eat you up alive. I'm not saying you that because you're an omega. I mean, he's one too."

"The BSU doesn't have to just sit around and analyse crimes that have already happened. I mean, think about it. We have to get inside their heads. Who knows the motives of a killer better than an actual killer?"

"What we have-"

"Isn't enough."

Bill is silent for some time, both hands on the steering wheel. Holden counts the pine trees he could see on the highway. 

"You aren't going to shut the fuck up about it."

"No." A beat. "Don't say 'fuck'."

"Do you at least have any idea about who you want to talk to?"

"I have a list."

Bill lets out a mirthless chuckle and they don't speak for the rest of the journey.

* * *

He thinks the reason he smokes so much in the car is to cover up Holden's intriguing scent. 

From his knowledge, the younger man didn't even have a mate and was on suppressants, which made no sense, given the potency of the spicy-sweet smell in Bill's car. And that was nothing compared to the motel rooms. Sometimes they would be given a single room with double beds, instead of two separate rooms. Bill prays that they won't be shown to a room with a single bed by an overreaching receptionist any time soon.

Bill knows that Holden takes his daily dose of government-approved suppressants and liked to use his personal scent-dampening soap on the road. He tries to remember what he learnt from FBI classes about omegas. Did suppressants not work when the omega was close to heat?

Maybe he should start carrying a spray bottle of air freshener around. 

"How's Road School going, Bill?" Wendy's familiar voice is soothing to him, though she sounds like she was on the brink of getting a cold. _What was it that Holden said to her the other day? 'It's flu season?'_

"Same old, same old."

"Is Holden a huge nuisance, as promised?"

Bill pauses for a moment to think. "He's been a pain in my ass, that's what he is. He has bad ideas. Never sticks to the script. Always promising to help any detective with an 'unusual' case."

Wendy laughs. "He's young."

Eleven years his junior, in fact.

His friend is saying something about writing her book in Boston and not being able to consult for two months. Bill could hardly follow what she was going on about because he was keeping an eye on Holden. Detective Conor was talking about a case, from what he could tell from reading his lips.

"- are you listening to me?"

"Yeah. Book deal. Boston again. Unavailable for two months."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm leaving on Friday."

"Just wrap up the work you've been doing at Quantico."

"Will you miss me?"

"You know I will."

"Mmm," Wendy says. Bill pictures her narrowing her eyes at him. "Have fun with your _troublemaker_."

"Bye," he says tightly and hangs up.

Bill walks over to the bar with his glass of whiskey in his free hand, the other moving to his pocket for a smoke. 

He was just in time to catch Holden's words. "You think Kemper would talk to us?"

"Try stopping him."

Bill slides into a chair. "Who's 'us', _kemosabe_?"

Holden turns his head around, eyes wide. Too bad for him- that wide-eyed, lip-biting look of innocence had stopped working for him since Nevada. 

* * *

"Can you open a window please?"

Holden, a person who doesn't smoke and dislikes smokers, swears he was going to die of secondhand smoke by the time he was forty if Bill kept smoking a pack a day, even in non-smoking motel rooms. 

"Ah, forgot."

He returns to checking out his reflection in the mirror. "Is the tie too much?"

"Is the suit?"

"Don't sass me, Bill."

"Just saying. If anyone finds out that you're a Fed, there'll be a riot."

There is the sound of a page being turned. 

"Shepard finds out you've been interviewing the Coed Killer as a side project, he'll flip his shit."

Holden tightens his tie. "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."

He thinks he could hear Bill mutter something about _omega idiots_ under his breath before he sighs heavily.

"Okay," his partner begins. "If you're gonna go in, you need to go in stone goddamn cold, take him by surprise, get the fuck out as quick as possible."

"Good advice?"

"Straight in there, don't phone, don't give them a chance to ask around."

"'I'm a buddy of Jim Conor.'"

"An omega?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"'Jim Conor reached out."

"You bet."  
  
"He sends his regards."

Holden widens his eyes. "I stopped by the jury room for a drink."

"Don't do that," Bill says abruptly, looking directly at Holden.

"Hmm?"

"The eye thing."

"I don't have an eye thing."

"Yes, you do."

"No," he pouts, a little childishly. "I don't."

"Stop. The starstruck omega look won't do you any favours."

"Fine."

"I wouldn't mention the killings," Bill says roughly. He obviously thought it was still a bad idea. "You're not there because he's a necrophile degenerate. You're there because he's fascinating."  
  
"That's why I have to do the eye thing."

"No, you don't," the coldness in his blue eyes made it clear that his word was final. 

"How do I not mention the killings then?"

"Just take it slow," Bill replies with a hand gesture. 

Holden tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants. 

"What are you doing?"

He is slightly surprised by the disbelief in Bill's voice. "Just in case."

"They're not going to let you in with a sidearm. The beta is six foot nine and weighs three-hundred pounds."

"That's right."

"So what's he gonna do? He's gonna take the fucking thing away, kill you with it, and then have sex with your face."

Holden grimaces.

For a second, the older alpha looks ashamed, but then he takes a long drag of his cigarette, averting his gaze.

* * *

There is a buzzing sound as the gate opens.

Holden steps out of the car, definitely overdressed in his dark suit. 

"Why don't you come with me? You could take notes."

Every instinct- he hated that word, _instinct_\- Bill had was telling him to not let an unbonded omega go in the loony bin smelling like he was ripe for the picking. He wills it away. 

"I'll help you write 'em up later."

"Seriously? You're really going to be golfing while I gain profound insights from the Coed Killer?"

"It's my day off."

Then a guard walks up to the car and sniffs indiscreetly in the omega's direction. Bill feels as offended as Holden looks.

"Excuse me, sir," he is talking to Bill, passing over Holden. "Are you two..."

The guard appears a bit uncomfortable as he trails off. _Moron_.

"We're partners," Holden says, hiding his irritation with a cheery smile.

"Unbonded?"

"Work partners," Bill interjects, climbing out of the car. "We have a problem, officer?"

"We would advise against an unaccompanied omega entering the facility. The prisoners might not be able to control themselves."

"Bill?" Holden walks over to him. His entire body was tense. 

He quashes the instinctive thought of _protect from harm_ and says sternly. "Agent Ford knows how to defend himself. As long as you can keep your prisoners locked away, he can go on his own."

"I'll be fine," Holden smiles charmingly at the concerned guard, a middle-aged beta. Almost all prison guards were betas, the least threatening of the three genders. 

Also the least likely to be swayed by Holden's _eye thing_. 

"Well, it's your decision."

Holden offers him a reassuring look which doesn't really calm Bill. "Kemper wouldn't hurt me. There's something in it for him."

"He'll use you."

"Not when he gets to be a part of something bigger than himself."

Bill could not believe how naive this omega could be sometimes. It was frustrating. "Part of what? We aren't even here."

As soon as Holden's broad-shouldered figure disappears into the building, he asks the guard if he could possibly wait in the car on the grounds for a couple of hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * wrote this really quickly. I might actually sit down to write the next chapter
>   * 11 years is the real life age difference between groff and mccallany.
>   * an alpha offers him food and holden shows himself to be the most oblivious idiot on the planet by accepting it
>   * not sure how ABO works with scents.
>   * holden has puppy eyes- these two will be the death of me
>   * the chasing part comes later. get ready for a slow burn
> 
> I didn't expect anyone to read this so it made me incredibly happy when I saw all the comments and kudos on the first chapter! thanks for stopping by <3


	3. Psycho Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holden, meet Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed Kemper really creeped me out on the show (not even the guy who killed that bird or Manson disturbed me so much) and I always skipped those parts when I could. To write this I had to swallow my discomfort and watch their first meeting so y'all better like this. 
> 
> I've tried to stay as in character for him as possible within the setting of the story.
> 
> Hope you like this and leave it a kudos or a comment- really brightens up my day :)))

"Omega bitch!"

"- get my cock in your cunt-"

"Knot you so good baby..."

Holden does his best to tune out the ugly looks and hisses of the prisoners. They were irrational, disgusting, and clearly trying to get a rise out of him.

The guard escorting him to meet Kemper looks at him sympathetically as they exit the cells. "Just don't think too much 'bout 'em. Ya sure you'll be alright, young man?"

"I'll be fine. And it's_ Agent_."

"Ed's a decent one. Won't hurt you."

Even with that, Holden couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as he waits in the cold metal chair. He stands to attention when he spots his interviewee.

Ed Kemper, Holden notes, is _huge_. 

His size was pretty much the only thing noteworthy of him. Kemper had a non-descript face set off by an unattractive moustache and glasses. He just looked troublingly ordinary. The prisoner walked slowly, leisurely even in chains.

"Can we unlock those-"

"Cuffs stay on," his escort says. "It's regulation- safer for your sort."

An inmate screams in the distance. 

"I think it might be awkward." 

The guard turns to unlock the cuffs. "You're FBI."

To Holden's surprise, the guard addresses Kemper politely. "Okay, you're all set."

"Thank you, Jim," Kemper's voice is disarmingly soft. 

"See you later," Jim the guard says as he leaves the room, locking the door behind him. 

Kemper walks over to him, chains rattling. If he notices that Holden is an omega, he doesn't show it. Then again, a beta like him did have a weaker sense of smell. 

He comes to a stop in front of Holden, towering above him by an entire head. 

"Holden, right?"

He wonders why the prisoner was addressing him by his first name, informally. It was like Holden was a friend stopping by for a quick chat.

"Edward."

"Edmund," he says, with an emphasis on the _mund_. 

"Oh I'm sorry," he says, a little demurely. Something about Edmund Kemper made him want to become the meek omega that was expected of him. He felt small. "I assumed that it was..."

"Are you tired?" Kemper asks unexpectedly.

"How could you tell?"

"It's a beautiful drive, but it's long."

Holden tries to remember what Bill had said earlier in the motel room. _Get in there stone goddamn cold, my ass. _

Kemper was trying to take control of the conversation. 

"Edmund was my mom's idea, so you can call me Ed."

Holden glances down at Kemper's offered hand. 

In Western society, it was more proper for an omega to offer their hand first to an alpha or beta. 

Holden takes it out of politeness, and shakes it firmly, tilting his head upwards to look at Kemper's face. The man claps his other warm hand on top of his, startling him slightly. 

"Sure thing."

"So how can I help?" Kemper says when he walks to the chair. 

"Okay," Holden sits. He wants to get straight to the point. "I'm an instructor working out of the Behavioural Science Unit at Quantico and I had this idea-"

"Have you had breakfast? Can I get you something? Do you want a sandwich?"

This series of questions took him by surprise again. He narrows his eyes at Kemper, wondering what was his game. 

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "I'm okay."

Kemper ignores him. "What kind of sandwich you like?"

Holden, over the course of two months of Road School with Bill, had developed a fondness for tuna sandwiches, but he wasn't about to tell a murderer that. And eating something offered by an incarcerated beta would probably just make him feel bad. 

"Um, I'm good. Thanks."

"You want an egg salad sandwich?"

"I'm fine. Really."

Kemper takes no regard for Holden's polite rejection. "I'll get us an egg salad sandwich."

Holden hates egg salad sandwich. The eggs and mayo don't sit well in his stomach. 

"I can get almost anything you want from the canteen," Kemper continues, standing.

"Okay," Holden says reluctantly. "Do you have tuna?"

"Oh, the egg salad's better."

"Hey, Jim."

"Yeah, Ed?"

"Have you seen Mitch this morning? You think you can find him for me?"

Holden thinks to himself that this conversation had already gone off the rails. 

As they wait for the sandwiches to be made, Holden observes Kemper. He could see the other man doing the same.

"When is your heat?"

"Pardon me?"

No omega would ever share those private details with a stranger, much less a homicidal stranger who had killed omegas before. Holden knows his heat would be coming up soon and hopes to be back in Virginia- not on the road with Bill- when it happens. 

"If it's close, you shouldn't really be here," Kemper says mildly. "I cannot vouch for the criminals."

It was curious how he was trying to distinguish himself from the criminals. _Hmph_. 

"Alright, then I won't stop by."

"When is your heat?"

Maybe he should just tell the man. After all, what could he do with that information behind bars?

"First week next month."

"How do you get through your heats? Do you pleasure yourself?" His nostrils flare. "You smell like alpha though."

Holden hides his discomfort with a swallow. 

"I would prefer not to talk about it."

Kemper doesn't press him on it.

* * *

In between thinking about the missed golfing opportunity and the pile of paperwork this visit may result in, Bill worries about Holden.

He would never have successfully stopped the man from meeting with a criminal. It would take more than Bill's anger to get between the omega and his point of interest. Especially if the point of interest was a crazy murderer who had sex with his mother's corpse.

That went against everything he had been taught about omegas in sex education classes. Omegas were peaceful creatures, in need of protection and a stronger mate to 'ground' them. They took care of the household, pleased their mate, and gave birth to beautiful children. 

Holden had walked into the prison with a spring in his step. 

The radio was playing an old Beegees ballad.

Back in the 60s, same-sex relationships- that is an alpha-alpha or omega-omega relationship- were still forbidden by law in America. Fortunately, the resistance had forced the government to give them some leeway. Civil partnerships but not a real marriage. 'Separate but equal' marital rights. The groups were still fighting.

Times were always changing. Maybe typical omega stereotypes were wrong. 

_'Cause we're living in a world of fools,_  
_Breaking us down when they all should let us be,_  
_We belong to you and me._

He hopes they weren't going to show him Holden in a body bag by the time the interview with the Coed Killer was over. 

* * *

The sandwiches were not as heavy as Holden thought they would be. 

"Good, huh?"

"Mmm," Holden couldn't help but smile a little. He brushes the crumbs onto the plate, having finished the whole sandwich. 

"These guys are great. I've been here five years. We just clicked right off the bat."

"You like the guards."

"Well, they like me. I'm polite."

"You know," Holden crosses his arms with a sigh, "I heard that you used to drink at the Jury Room."

"You mean in Santa Cruz," Ed says with a small smile. "Yeah, those are good guys. I applied to Califoria Highway Patrol. My mom spoke to the cops to get my psychiatric record expunged. Turns out my record didn't bother them at all, I was just too tall."

"Too tall?" Holden couldn't believe it. "I've heard of being too short, but..."

"What?"

"Nothing. It just seems..."

"You think they lied to me?"

A pause.

"No."

"Well, cops like me because they can talk to me, more than they can talk to their own wives, some of them."

Holden could see why. Ed was so normal-seeming and patient. He couldn't equate a cold-blooded killer with this unassuming beta. 

"Really? What do you talk about?"

"You know, books, movies. I watch all the cop shows on TV."

"Do you know, uh," Holden leans forward. "Joseph Wambaugh, _Police Story?_ You ever watch that?"

"Huge fan. I got a lot of my insights from right there."

Holden widens his eyes slightly, trying to think what conversational tactic would help Ed open up. Maybe he should go at it indirectly. 

"_Really_? What _kind_ of insights?"

Repeat their words back at them, he reminds himself. 

"Well, so, for example, with cops, I would not allow myself to walk into a trap because I knew exactly how their minds work from watching Wambaugh."

He was getting somewhere, just not where Holden wanted to go.

"What kind of trap are you talking about?"

"The classic is talking too much about the crimes. Over-interest. You have to remain casual. They tried everything to trick me- I'm too savvy. I don't fucking talk, period."

Holden glances down, gathering his thoughts. 

"Really? That's interesting."

"So... you had this idea?"

Holden looks up. "Yes, I did."

_Why was he so nervous?_

"It's kind of uh. Well, it's more of a research thing."

"Research."

"Just a series of interviews, chatting with-" he gestures towards Ed, glad they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. "Individuals not unlike yourself."

"We're just talking. I don't get to go someplace, do a bunch of tests?"

"No," Holden shakes his head. "Yeah, no tests. Just right here."

"Why?"

"Because I believe you could be useful."

"Talking about what?"

"Well, I don't know. Your... behaviour, I guess."

At Ed's silence, he quickly backtracks. "If you want to, that is. We don't have to talk about anything at all if you don't want to."

"Why are you so tense?" 

He had noticed Holden's weakness. He thinks back to what they were teaching at Road School about noticing deviants. He wished Bill had come with him. The alpha would have cowed the beta into speaking. 

"You're tense, right now," Ed says in a soft voice. Holden gets a distinct impression that he was being calmed. 

"No, not tense."

Ed leans back with a sigh. "Well, I'll be honest, I don't get many visitors. When I do, you think they want to talk about this shit?"

Maybe he was deliberately swearing to get on Holden's nerves. As an omega, he wasn't used to vulgarities being tossed around in front of him. The FBI workers toned it down when they were around him, which annoyed him a little. He didn't want to be treated delicately. 

"_Fuck_ no. It's like if you worked at a slaughterhouse with livestock, real conversation stopper."

"Did you?"

"No, I'm just saying ... people who hunt other people for a vocation," that word caught Holden's attention. "All we want to talk about is what's like."

He begins writing things down on his notebook, letting Ed go on.

"The shit that went down. The entire fucked-upness of it."

"Right, sure."

"It's not easy. Butchering people is hard work. Physically and mentally. I don't think people realise. You need to vent."

Holden unconsciously tightens up the knot of his tie. 

"What are you writing down?"

Ed is leaning forward, one hand stretched as though he wanted to take Holden's notepad. 

"Oh, I just think it's an interesting choice of words, 'vocation'."

"Well, what would you call it? A hobby? I'd say it's more than that. Look at the consequences. The stakes are very high."

_He's just telling you what you want to hear_, a voice that sounds like Bill's pipes up in his mind.

"Is this helping? Are you getting what you came for?"

"I think."

Ed looks pleased. "Good."

"Can I... Could I just ask you something?"

The other man waves his hand slightly, telling Holden to go on.

"Do you think prison can help you?"

"Are you kidding?"

"You think you shouldn't be in prison?"

"I think it's shutting the barn door after the horse has bolted, somewhat."

Holden could understand that. Maybe Ed had wanted to be a normal guy, tried to be one, before deciding to give into the impulses. 

"What do you think the state should do with you instead?"

"Well, _Holden_," His own first name made him jolt. "A lobotomy's not out of the question."

"Lobotomy?"

"Like Frances Farmer. You remember Frances Farmer?"

"No."

"I loved Frances Farmer. She was an actress. They lobotomised her. She was very smart and intense and a misunderstood omega. She was a lot like me."

"You don't think you can benefit from psychiatry?"

"I already did all that in the institution."

He rolls his eyes, thinking.

"It didn't take."

* * *

He could be on a golf course right now. It was less than thirty miles away.

Closing his eyes, Bill could picture himself swinging a nine-iron on California green, hitting the ball into the air. Maybe the ball would hit Holden in the head to stop him from getting another admittedly brilliant but stupid idea.

Bill wouldn't mind sharing a round of golf with Holden. The man likely hadn't golfed once in his life, but he could teach him how to swing the club just right. 

He exhales a puff of cigarette smoke. Bill didn't like psychiatric centres for criminals. It seemed too lenient for their crimes. It was too bad that Kemper wasn't on death row- what he did to those innocent omegas was truly horrific. 

And Holden was inside with him.

Bill takes another long drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around in the air. 

* * *

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Funny. You keep looking at me like I'm a specimen."

Holden emits a sigh. "Well, you just seem so normal and ordinary. It's difficult for me to square you with what you're in prison for."

"Well, I was a regular guy most of my life with a nice home, nice suburb. I had pets, I went to a good beta-only school. I was a thoughtful, educated, well brought up young person. There's no question about it."

Holden finds himself nodding along.

"But... at the same time, I was living a vile, depraved, entirely parallel other life filled with debased violence and mayhem, and fear, and death."

He said all of that in an even tone. 

And when Ed tells him that there were around thirty-five of Holden's "sequence killers" in North America alone, he had to control his mouth being agape. All those killers evading capture from the FBI, hurting people of different genders. It was sickening.

"What do you want from me?"

Holden had sighed when he said that- he seemed to be doing that a lot more often lately.

It was the truth when he says. "I have no idea."

* * *

He spots Holden coming out of the building, squinting into the sunlight. It turns his hair a warm shade of gold.

Good thing he was still in one piece.

"Hey," the omega smiles like he hasn't just finished speaking with a psychopath. He looks like a man reborn. "How was golf?"

Bill raises his eyebrows and crushes his cigarette out with the sole of his shoe. 

"Oh, were you here the whole time?" Holden seems a little stunned. "Um, glad to know someone's watching out for me."

"You're looking chipper."

"It was enlightening, to say the least."

Bill could smell the foulness of the prison on Holden. It was deeply unpleasant and _wrong_. _What he wouldn't give to rub his-_

He suppresses that instinct. Going on the road with an unmated omega for an extended period of time was definitely making him overprotective. "Talking to a goddamn mass murderer?"

"Ed was surprisingly nice. Chatty. Not that bad."

"You guys on first-name basis now?"

"He was friendly."

"Could be another way he manipulates you."

"I'm not that easily manipulated."

"You haven't met someone like Kemper before. You're too caught up by your fascination that you don't even notice his hand up your pants."

Holden looks scandalised. "Weird metaphor."

"Get in the car," Bill says gruffly. "You can tell me about the interview on the way to the airport."

His partner gives him a delighted smile, which is at once endearing and disturbing.

"I'll tell you all the gory details."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh i hate swearing bc i don't normally swear in real life (i had a christian upbringing) and writing stuff like this literally makes me feel like I have sinned if it makes sense. 
> 
> Oh well.
> 
> also to research this scene I clicked on a youtube video that I thought would be Kemper and Holden's first meeting, titled 'egg salad'. it was just kemper eating an egg salad sandwich for two minutes. like wow
> 
> **my full[ author's note](https://possessedbyforcesunknown.tumblr.com/post/187414549744/things-i-thought-about-while-writing-and-i-keep)**


	4. a more intelligent beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holden tries to start a project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!  
hugs to all previous readers and a warm welcome to new ones! :)
> 
> _heads up_: school will make my updates less frequent, and I want to finish the next chapter by the end of November (I know it seems like a long time but I'm not as busy next month)

"Hey, Debs."

"Holden," Debbie, his friend since they took the same Advanced Criminal Psychology class at UVA- her for the credit, and him out of interest- greets him with a warm hug. She and her house smell like toast and candied fruit. 

"Have you been smoking?"

She shakes her head with a smirk. "No."

Debbie was obviously lying, but he lets it slide. School is stressful and he would never be able to stop her from doing recreational drugs. As a federal agent, this was definitely wrong of him, but it's not his fault if there wasn't any proof.

"How're your studies going?" Holden says, slipping out of the hug. 

"Shit."

"Don't say that word."

"Jeez, you're such a mom."

Holden rolls his eyes and grabs two glasses out of the cupboard. 

"Wine's in the fridge!" Debbie yells from the living room. 

He prepares dinner to the tunes of Wild Cherry and Don McLean. A simple pasta would help his beta friend put on some needed weight. Everyone needed to eat homecooked meals every now and then- something that Holden learned in his college days. 

"Looks good," the brunette says with a smile at the finished meal. "Where did you find real cheese?" 

"Bought it with me," he replies, taking off his apron with a flourish. "Dinner, m'lady."

Debbie makes appreciative noises as she eats two entire plates of cheesy tomato pasta. Holden deems it a success. 

"You're going to make some alpha happy one day."

"Don't."

"You're the whole package, Holden," she says, sipping her wine. "Shit, did I say that out loud? It's going to go to your enormous head."

"I'm sure it won't."

"Yeah, a modern omega like you would never think of attracting an alpha with culinary skills."

The older generations had treated omegas like property- objects to be owned. They had spawned the idea of the 'perfect omega', a combination of an obedient servant, sweet child-bearer, and effortless housewife. If Holden ever took a mate, he wanted them to treat him as an equal. 

While they were both watching the news report on Debbie's ancient television, Holden begins to talk about his interview with Ed.

"He knows more about lust murder than the entire Behavioural Sciences Unit of the FBI."

"So you want to study people like him?"

"Yeah. We have these prisoners rotting away in cells without asking ourselves- what if we used them for the greater good? But they'll never let it happen."

"This is why bureaucracy fucking sucks."

"There has got to be a way we can use deviants like Ed to catch killers."

"If it could work, wouldn't one of the alphas at your department have thought of it first?"

"Well, omegas can come up with new ideas. Anyway, that's the thing. They only see deviants as a threat- even after they've been locked up. They don't see them as a resource."

"You'll just have to convince your boss then."

He thinks about Bill's displeasure when he explained what had happened during the interview with Ed. 

"You told him about your fucking heat!" He had exclaimed, taking his eyes off the road to stare disapprovingly at Holden. "How did you even become an FBI agent?"

"I did it to get him to open up," he had tried to defend himself, to no avail.

Bill's blue eyes blazed. Every primal instinct in Holden told him to get away from the upset alpha. 

"You're an idiot," Bill had said, after a moment of silence. "Don't do that again."

"Holden!" 

Debbie snaps her fingers in front of his face, frowning.

"Huh?"

"Your brain went somewhere else. I was telling you about-"

"Durheim's theory of labelling. Yeah," he props his chin upon his hand. "I'm listening."

"You're obviously not," Debbie says, part annoyed, part fond. "Fine. Can't believe I'm saying this, but Holden, why don't you tell me more about what's going on with _you_."

_Where should he start?_ He ducks his head. "A lot of things. My boss pretty much hates me now after going to Ed."

"The doctor or the G-man?"

"G-man."

"Mmm, they're usually more uptight."

"The thing is, Bill isn't as traditional as he seems, but he just doesn't like the concept."

"Don't overthink things. Are you planning to go again?"

"Well, I mean, _yeah._ I need his permission though."

Omegas needed written or verbal permission by an alpha before they were allowed into the California Medical Facility.

Alphas and betas did not.

"Then you have to convince him."

Holden did not like where this was going. 

"No."

"Ask him tomorrow."

"I will."

"Just knock on the door of his office. 'Hey, Bill, do you have some time to talk to me?'"

Debbie bats her eyelashes comically. 

"I won't do that."

"Are you kidding me, Holden?" Debbie laughs incredulously. "You do that all the time to get what you want."

"Oh god."

He buries his face in his hands.

"You have to lean into him- alphas like that. Give him a whiff of _Eau de Holden_."

"Okay," he plays along. 

"Keep your arms uncrossed," Debbie shifts so she is sitting in the same position like him. "Mirror his movements."

"Approach the subject indirectly," she continues, blinking with sultriness that Holden could never achieve. "Encourage him to talk about things he’s excited about.”

”And then what?’

”You cross your legs in his direction, but don't touch him.”

”Are these omegean wiles?”

“Someone should have taught you this,” Debbie smiles suggestively, raising her eyebrows. ”Harness your sexuality.”

”Are you making fun of me?”

”These skills work at least ninety per cent of the time for me. And I’m a beta. Your omega-ness has the advantage of making you more attractive to alphas.”

”I’m not going to _seduce_ anyone at the FBI into letting me interview killers.”

”You want him to like you, but you don’t want him to think you’ll fuck him.”

Holden gives her a withering stare over the rim of his wineglass.

Debbie laughs heartily. “Look at your face.”

* * *

Bill is minding his own business outside the office and having a smoke break.

He inhales the heady cigarette smoke when he catches a familiar scent of cinnamon and honey.

”Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

The omega looks a little apprehensive, holding a black file to his chest defensively. 

“Do you have some time to talk to me?”

He already has a sneaking suspicion about the content of Holden’s upcoming talk and holds a hand up.

”Don’t tell me.”

And he tells him anyway. 

"So about Ed Kemper. I just want to start an FBI study about the behaviour of individuals like him and how we can use the information we gather to hunt down criminals. I'm sure Doctor Carr would like that as well."

"How do you know what Doctor Carr would like?" he says pointedly. "Have you asked her?"

"I'm going to."

"And what about the men upstairs, Holden? Shepard would never give this proposal of yours the green light."

"I submitted it already," Holden replies, mildly sheepish. "Here's a copy for you."

Bill takes the offered file out of Holden's loose grip, a little too roughly, judging by how the omega glares at him. 

"It will be within our budget- I asked Jay to come up with the calculations of a ballpark figure to run an extended study on this topic. As long as we secure one or two grants, we'll be able to do it within a couple of years."

Bill gives him his best deadpan look._ One or two?_

"Oh, I genuinely believe that this will be helpful to the FBI in the future. We cannot remain stuck in the past. You have to help me convince Shepard, Bill."

He points at the title. "A Proposal for the _Study of Deviant Behaviour and Classification through the Understanding of Incarcerated Mass Criminals_?"

"It's a working title."

Bill sighs, feeling a headache coming on. Wends would know what to do about this. Hell, Wendy would actually give this 'study' her approval. Unfortunately for the two of them, Wendy wasn't here. 

"If his staff know best, they won't ever let this document show up on his desk. You'll have to talk to him, face-to-face."

"Then, I'll schedule an appointment."

"Alright, Holden," Bill didn't want to do this, but if it was what it took to get the omega to lower his head and forget all about interviewing murderers, he would have to say it. "None of us like to bring up the uh, sensitive topic of gender."

Holden's blue eyes narrow.

"Shepard is, to put it in a nice way, an old-fashioned alpha. He's courteous to omegas- I mean, he watches out for them, lets some of them work in the field, but deep down, he likes to stick with the status quo. Omegas listen to alphas. Omegas don't stick their neck out and make suggestions."

"So, he's sexist," Holden's voice is cold. 

Bill shrugs. "It's true. Shepard will just shoot you down. Suspend you once he knows a federal agent is talking to Kemper."

"But you're an alpha," Holden presses on after a moment, his lips pursed. "It'll sound better coming from you."

"Don't drag me into this. I never wanted it."

Holden's hurt gaze hits him like a blow to his chest. _Those goddamn eyes._

The omega walks away wordlessly, leaving Bill with a dying cigarette and a rejected proposal.

* * *

"I've had to deal with alphas my entire life-" he is seething. Holden is _seething_. "But this one is really different from the rest. Not in a good way."

"There, there," Debbie says from where she was reclining on the couch. "Let it all out. Vent."

"He wouldn't even try to talk to Shepard. Bill's clever, but he's so short-sighted."

"You can complain about him all you want, but he has a point."

"I thought he could _understand_."

"Not everyone understands your obsession with nasty criminals. He's probably just concerned with your well-being."

"I don't want him to be concerned about my mental state, I want him to _let_ me do this project."

"Don't you have a flight to California soon?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Talk to Kemper again. Also, I'm pretty sure your partner's not going to snitch on you to this Shepard guy."

Holden groans, plopping down on the couch by Debbie's legs. "Why are alphas like this?"

"Most of those fuckers think they are the superior sex. It's wrong on so many levels. Just 'cuz you can Push people around, doesn't make you better than the rest of us."

"Bill isn’t like those alphas."

"That’s the danger when your point is ‘not all alphas’. What makes betas and omegas the 'weaker sex'? It's government propaganda. He's a G-man. Maybe he doesn't want to see you succeed."

"Maybe," Holden smiles grimly. "I have to try harder."

* * *

Bill goes golfing this time.

It takes his mind off Holden's second interview with Kemper- he's sure it wasn't going to be the last one. 

Something in their relationship has soured. They were still oddly in sync with each other when making Road School presentations, but afterwards, Holden barely spoke to him apart from the usual polite pleasantries. And even when he did it was aloof. 

He had withdrawn into himself. 

Bill has no idea that an omega could hold a grudge for so long.

However, he had a feeling that Holden wouldn't be able to shut up about interviewing Kemper. That was partly why he let him go to the facility again. He had also read the omega's detailed proposal. It was informative and insightful- two things that would have been neglected by Shepard. 

"Nice," he says to himself when the ball goes into the hole. His swing was getting better from practice. Maybe in another life, he would have been a pro-golfer. 

He gets through a few more holes before he glances at his watch.

Holden should be done by now.

The omega looks perplexed when he is escorted out of the prison gates by an unsmiling beta. 

"Was it worth your while?"

Holden levels him with a raised eyebrow. "Sure it was."

Despite his partner's feelings of suspicion towards him, Holden started babbling as soon as Bill pulls the car out of the driveway and onto the road. It was nice to see him back to his old, bright self, although he was talking about grisly murders. 

_If this one ever had to find a mate, it better be someone who could handle this shit. _

"Lust murder doesn't cut it," Holden says as he nibbles on a hotdog Bill bought him at the gas station. "He did not stab, rape, and decapitate Mom just because he was _aroused_. He was conditioned to do it."

Bill hides a snort. "Did he tell you that?"

"As good as."

"It's schtick," Bill says. Any agent would have recognised that Kemper was playing with Holden. "He must've learnt that vernacular from the institution." 

"He's sophisticated enough to use it."

"No," Holden turns his head to face Bill, who was trying to focus on driving. "That's not my instinct."

"Is it your instinct he was spewing words or was he choosing them very carefully?"

"Very carefully."

Bill wasn't going to stand by to watch an innocent- or as innocent as he could get, with how he interviewed convicted murderers with morbid fascination- omega like Holden being manipulated subtlely by a foul person. 

"He's got you pegged. He's telling you what he guessed you want to hear."

A crease appears between Holden's brows. 

"But why would I want to hear that?"

"Because you're _you_," Bill says, thinking that it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You told him about your university education, your sassy best friend, and your sensitive character, and he tailored his bullshit to fit it."

He sniffs audibly. "You even put on scent blockers to meet him."

Holden appears pensive. 

After a moment, Bill continues. "Why did you tell him about that stuff?"

"To loosen him up."

"Why do you feel the need to tell him about your life?"

"To get him talking."

"Holden, he's had seven years in a correctional facility. Don't encourage him."

"I was trying to disarm him."

_Whatever God there was, give me the strength to deal with stubborn, naive omegas. _

"You're a federal agent. Don't give him anything. He's your subject. Be objective."

"But I have to trust my instincts on this."

Always with that word, _instincts_. Instincts don't amount to much with killers. 

"There's the word again."

"What's so bad about my instincts?"

"They're fallible." 

"If you think you have better instincts, _alpha_," Holden says with a little contempt. "You should come with me next time."

"So in Fairfield, Iowa, you were in the Dark Ages? Now you think your instincts are impeachable."

Holden frowns. 

"It's been a process."

"Okay," he has to shout to be heard over the wind. "There's no doubt that what happened to you in there was a profound experience for you, but I need you to understand that whatever you think, there's a distinct possibility that he's manipulating you!"

When he looks at him, Holden's head is turned away.

* * *

"Hey, Holden," Jay says, knocking his knuckles against his desk and leaning into his personal space. 

Holden wrinkles his nose but smiles at the agent. "What's up, Jay?"

"The usual. Coffee?"

"Uh, sure," Holden looks at the agent again, but he isn't holding a coffee cup for him. 

"Would you like to walk with me to the canteen?"

The canteen was where the best coffee was at Quantico. It was that or in the Executive Lounge, but that was for the higher-ups. The vending machine coffee tasted like motor oil, even when flavoured generously with sugar and cream. 

"Alright."

Holden's deskmate, the married Beta, gives them a suspicious look. He shrugs at him in response before following Jay. 

"Road School exhausting?"

"Honestly? _Yeah_."

Jay chuckles for some reason. 

"I remember when I had to do it. I covered the Midwest on my own. Had to talk to these hardened cops in Chicago. Didn't listen to a word I said."

"Oh, sounds tough."

"Of course, I didn't have a partner. How's Agent Tench treating you?"

"He's-" Holden thinks about Bill's rejection and his dislike of the potentially life-changing proposal. "Nice."

"Nice?" Jay huffs in disbelief. 

Oddly, that makes Holden rise to defend Bill. 

"Is it really that surprising?"

"I guess it's because you're very nice too, Holden."

Jay grins at him, showing all of his white teeth. The way they are walking closely- almost too closely in his opinion- together makes Holden detect his woodsy scent. It isn't an awful one, but Holden has smelt better. The other man felt like the type of alpha who didn't with scent blockers after compulsory suppressants, who thought that only omegas had the responsibility to do that. 

That doesn't make Jay a bad person though. 

"You know," Holden begins. "I've got this idea. About doing interviews and conducting a study."

"Interesting."

"I'm thinking that the FBI could interview incarcerated killers to classify their behaviour. Utilize them for information. It would help us solve crimes in the future."

"That's smart," Jay says appraisingly. 

"It's difficult to get them talking, but it would be better than guessing motives or being fixated on proving a few motives."

"What- have you talked to one already?"

Holden wonders if he should tell him. "Uh, not officially."

"I see."

"I think it went well."

"Whoever you interviewed unauthorized, if anyone else hears about it, it won't end well for you. I mean it's a great idea, but seriously against the rules."

_Fuck_, Holden is tired of alphas thinking they knew better than him. 

"It'll be our secret then," he smiles tightly. 

Before Jay could go on, Bill passes them, two cups of coffee in his hands. Seeing them, he scowls.

"Coffee break," Jay explains pleasantly. "You too?"

Bill's scowl deepens. "It's not the time for another break yet, Jay. Don't you have a homicidal murderer to track down in Georgia?"

Jay's goodnatured expression appears to falter. "That could wait. I'm _this_ close to solving it."

"Oh yeah? Then would you care to give a reason for why my secretary has been fielding calls from this victim's poor mother for the past three weeks?"

Holden decides to deescalate the situation, stepping in between the two alphas. Instantly, two pairs of eyes snap to him.

"I wanted coffee. Um, Agent Jay asked me to get coffee with him."

"And don't get me started with you, Holden," says Bill offhandedly. "You should be prepping for Road School."

"It's the same every time. There's nothing to add, Bill."

Jay shoots him an alarmed look, which was when Holden realised that it wasn't proper to address alphas by their first name in public. 

“You two better get back to the office. Just because Doctor Carr was lax with work hours, doesn’t mean I’ll allow it.”

”But coffee.”   
  
Somehow this reprimand has made Holden more eager for a fresh cup of coffee.

Bill shakes his head and holds out the other cup he was holding in Holden's direction. 

Holden smiles at this unexpected gesture. Maybe the months spent on the road have helped him win over the alpha.

"Oh, thanks."

He takes the cup and their fingers brush, sending a tingle down his spine. He sniffs the coffee.

"Hazelnut?"

Bill nods.

"My favourite."

"Get back to work,” says Bill sternly, retracting his hand. “Or you’ll lose coffee privileges.”

Later in the corridor, a coffee-less Jay complains that their boss had no right to do that. 

“You do take a lot of coffee breaks,” Holden points out.

”I do not. And they aren't coffee breaks, I go away to collect important files.”

Holden sips his coffee. It had the kind of smooth texture which could have only come from the roast they used at the Executive Lounge. 

"And he was on the way to give you a coffee you like," Jay says, sounding displeased. "That's saying something."

"It was just a coincidence. I'm sorry that you couldn't get coffee with me. We could go back tomorrow if you'd like."

"No, it's fine," Jay smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I understand what's going on."

"Okay," replies Holden, vaguely confused. 

He has a distinct feeling that there won't be coffee for him in the future.

* * *

An elderly omega beaten within an inch of her life. 

Bill shares Holden's obvious dislike of the situation. It was fucking immoral, what happened to Rosemary Gonzales.

"How could someone do that to a person?" Holden had said to the detective as soon as they walked out of the house, a crease between his brows. "We have to do something about it."

Trust an omega to feel so strongly about a case. Or maybe it was a good thing that Holden was more sensitive than Bill when it came to this- the determination would push the case along. 

"Seventeen, eighteen-year-old high school kid, low self-esteem, hates authority, doesn't get along well with parents," Holden begins over the open case files back at the station. 

His shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing lean, pale arms. 

"What just some punk?"

"Likely an alpha from the smell. Gets into a fight with his old man one night, maybe he gets ahold of a bottle of liquor and recognises the house, recognises the place because he cut the grass when he was younger."

"Some neighbourhood kid?"

"Newly presented," Bill chimes in. 

"He goes inside," He could see the gears in Holden's head turning. "She doesn't recognise him- strange alpha, thinks he's broken in- and starts yelling."

"He's drunk, beats the shit out of her."

"He knifes the dog because it's yapping its head off."

"Typical aggressive alpha. And then he runs."

The detective makes a face. "Are you sure? A teenager?"

"He has poor hygiene," Holden explains, hand on his chin. "Doesn't bathe because that's what his parents want."

Bill asks. "Are you sure the place smelled like an alpha when you went in?"

"We just got hit by a strong scared omega smell- probably Mrs Gonzales. It overpowered everything else, according to the alphas in the department."

"I don't think any alpha would hurt an omega this badly, even a newly presented one. But that's the only lead we have until further investigation."

Bill gives Holden what he hopes is a stern look after he finishes talking. The idiot was going to interview Kemper again after this. Not that anyone would be able to stop him. 

"It could have been a ritual sacrifice. Harvest moon and all."

Bill exhales deeply, looking sharply at the detective who had mentioned it. "Let's not go down that road." 

Holden stares down at the files, hand on his chin, as though the rest of the room did not exist. 

* * *

"Maybe this kid's like Kemper."

"Maybe," Bill replies, looking off to the distance, one hand on the steering wheel and another holding a fresh cigarette. The acrid smell of the smoke covers everything, making it hard to think clearly. 

"We can't just let something like this pass."

"It's not the job of the FBI to deal with weird cases like these. Leave it to the locals to solve it."

"I still have a feeling that something like this is going to happen again."

"A repeat offender?"

"You know," Holden says thoughtfully. "We could be looking in the wrong direction."

"The newly-presented teenager direction?"

"Yeah, that."

"I couldn't smell an alpha in that room. Maybe a beta?"

Holden knew about Bill's strong sense of smell- a rarity even among alphas. 

"Heavy blockers."

"Could be."

"Or-" Holden didn't want to bring it up, but it had been eating him up from the inside. "It could be an omega?"

To his surprise, Bill seemed to take the possibility in stride. He tosses the cigarette out of the open car window- _littering_, Holden wants to tell him, is illegal- and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. 

"Well, that's new."

They hadn't even considered an omega in their brainstorming process. 

"That would explain the frightened omega smell. And why Rosemary thought the intruder stank."

Holden turns to Bill. "Could you smell anything at the scene?"

All he could smell at the house was Rosemary's bitter scent and Bill's heavy Alpha smell of freshly-roasted coffee and cigarettes. His partner actually smelled quite good to Holden, but he wasn't about to show that he was affected by _that_. 

"They used scent-removing cleaning agents. I didn't get a whiff of any strange omega."

"Less than seven per cent of violent crimes are committed by omegas. It would be more statistically probable for the criminal to be an alpha. And-"

"You _can't help but think_," says Bill. "What are your brilliant instincts telling you now, Holden?"

"The evidence leads to an omega, who could be a little older. Unmated."

"But violent?"

"I know it's hard to wrap your head around it, but it makes sense. Omegas can be violent too," he says, looking at Bill from under his eyelashes.

His companion returns his gaze to the road and clenches his jaw. "You're probably the only omega who seems to enjoy discussing violence openly. Deviancy is not omega-like."

"That's because I'm enlightened, Bill. I work for the FBI- can't avoid it. And," he couldn't help but go on. "Not all omegas fit into the box you have of softness and innocence. We're people with our own thoughts and actions. Sometimes those thoughts are disturbing and violent, translating to deviant behaviour."

Bill is quiet after that. The silence is awkward, even for Holden. 

So he watches the blur of short brick buildings as they pass through another nameless town. It would be a while before they hit the forests, where he liked to study the shape of the pines and oaks and roll down the windows so he could feel the wind against his hair. 

He thinks about Rosemary, her face beaten black and blue. Then, he thinks about Ed Kemper and the insight he could provide if he could simply convince the FBI that this study was worth it. Shepard, he could try to ignore, but not Bill.

Holden plans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me some time to complete (really wanted to end the whole Rosemary case here but oh well). I really hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> please leave a comment or a kudos <3
> 
> **for the curious**: my [extended author's note](https://possessedbyforcesunknown.tumblr.com/post/188252151944/extended-authors-note-for-chapter-4-and-i-keep)


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